Moonlight Confession
by MiLa63
Summary: Prompt by Mrsleonard528 for Guy/OC, OC as the night watchman in the scene he discovers Marion, he discovers the OC instead. Guy of Gisborne meets a new lady of the court, who instantly has him tangled up in knots. A bit of a rewrite. Felt like it needed more. R&R! One shot.


Diclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood, the legend, nor the characters given life through BBC.

A/N: Prompt by Mrsleonard528, requesting the creation of a Guy/OC and giving her OC a little background and name. This I shamelessly admit combined well with my own OC I've had rolling around for a bit.

Also, I hate Alan in this scene, so I deleted him. Imagine he ran off to check his horse or something.

* * *

Guy of Gisborne's sharp countenance clouded with confusion as he gazed upon the bright blue eyes of the woman before him. He had finally trapped the night watchman, and he had been brimming with vengeful pride just before he ripped off the damned leather mask. However, the stranger who now stared at him gave him no sense of victory or relief.

"Who are you?" He gruffly demanded, still holding the woman down in the scattered hay of the wooden barn.

She huffed and moved to push him off her petite form. "If you would allow me to breathe, I just might tell you." Startled at her glaring sparkling aquamarine eyes, Guy relaxed his grip slightly and stood.

"I have a more formal address, but since this is hardly the setting for it, you may call me Ayla. And I must apologize for deceiving you in this garb. I am not the true night watchman you seek." She dusted off her shoulders in a prim manner as she stood, making Gisborne wonder who this woman really was. As she turned down the forest green hood, she shook her head, revealing a dark caramel waterfall of gentle curls.

"A year ago, I stabbed the true night watchman in the side," he huffed, frustrated with the turn of events. He moved his hands to the bottom of Ayla's leather vest. "Let me see yours." He lifted the hem with the hesitancy of a man on the precipice of an earth-shattering discovery. Gisborne only saw the stranger's creamy smooth skin as it wrapped around her hip. He almost longed to touch it, to test the site with his own fingertips, but the prim woman shifted and adjusted her clothing once more.

"What you say is true, you are not him. Yet, why are you dressed so?" Guy moved back, allowing the woman space. He forced himself to remember that this beaming angel was dressed as his enemy.

She cleared her throat and curtsied. "My full name is Lady Ayla Black, and I arrived into Sherwood forest two days ago. My carriage was overtaken by some ruffians in the woods. They were led by a man who called himself Robin Hood. He took hold of my dear mother and would not return her until I did as he demanded. Now, if you would please ascertain for me a change of garment, I will happily tell my tale to the Sheriff here." At this, she eyed Gisborne from top to toe. "Unless you are he?"

Gisborn dejectedly shook his head. _What a princess,_ he thought to himself. _She must be rich and well-bred. The sheriff will love showing off to her._ "I am Guy of Gisborne, Lord of Locksley. I will take you to the Sheriff. But first, as you said, new clothes will do you well." He led her out of his barn and back into his main house.

Calling his maids, he asked them to provide the best clothing available and leave the strange woman a place to change. They showed her to one of the small guest rooms with a large closed window.

Ayla nodded to them as they left her alone. Breathing a large sigh of relief, she opened the window slightly, as she started to undress.

A brown head popped between the slightly ajar shutters. "Well?" His young voice asked.

Ayla rolled her eyes at his unnecessary hesitancy. "It went perfectly, he doesn't suspect a thing. Now, I am preparing to go before the Sheriff, as I said. When we venture into the forest to rescue my mother, have her tied to a tree or something in the opposite direction from your camp. Most likely, the soldiers will spread out to search the area."

She had stripped to her undershirt and breeches at this point. "Now, turn, as I must put on this ghastly dress," she demanded of the previous Lord of Locksley. With his back facing her, she resumed her speech. "Once my mother and I are safely within the castle walls, I will find a way to complete my purpose here, given to me by King Richard. Before I leave, the Sheriff will be gone, and you and Marion will be safe." With the end of her shuffling, Robin turned to face his new ally.

"I promise," she stated, intensely meeting his curious and questioning gaze with her icy one.

* * *

Gisborne didn't like this. Ever since he and his men had saved the new courtier's mother from being starved in the woods, Guy of Gisborne began his observation. When dressed as the watchman, the woman had been a skilled fighter, even in his barn. Yet, this woman acted as if merely looking at a dagger would cause her to faint. He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdities that had fallen from her mouth at supper. Her personal maintenance, the goings-on of court, the witticisms of Prince John were all common topics. All pleased the sheriff immensely because of her high and strong connections, but it caused Guy a deep impulse to roll his eyes.

Her mother was an interesting character as well. She rarely ever spoke, yet when the subject of marriage arose, she seemed suddenly full of energy. She would discuss how terrible it was that her daughter was still unmarried, and not even betrothed at that. She refused to forget her constant request for the sheriff to find a nice young man to help her daughter settle down.

At times such as that, the sheriff would scan the room of his most trusted advisers, lords and ladies, sometimes lingering on Guy's face. Gisborne pleaded with his eyes to not think what the sheriff was most likely thinking. Being one of the only bachelors of marrying age was a burden. Being close to the sheriff was another.

If she was in the room, Gisborne would keep his eyes on the one woman he did indeed wish to marry, Marion. Her brown curls framing her face, made her look like a woman with a future. His future.

Gisborne was preparing to head back to Locksley when the sheriff appeared. "Gisborne, and where are you off to?" Thankfully, the night watchman had not appeared ever since his encounter with Lady Ayla, so the sheriff had forgiven the previous difficulties between them.

Groaning internally, he replied, "Locklsey. It has much managing needed before it can be ready for my new wife."

The sheriff smiled in his knowing way. "New wife, new wife. Yes, yes. You see, I've been thinking about that, yes," steering Guy's much larger body into the nearest room by a grip on his shoulder, Gisborne followed obediently. "You see, I've decided something. Lady Ayla is a high member of court. A cousin, I believe, of royalty. Truly a marvel, that she would find a reason to come here, of all places and still unmarried. I think it would be advantageous for you," he poked a long finger into Guy's black leather-covered chest, "to marry _her_ instead of Maid what's-her-name."

Gisborne scoffed. "She is not close enough to the throne to inherit. No wonder her mother pleads for suitors."

The sheriff shook his head frantically, "No, no. You are looking at this all wrong, Gisborne. It's not about stature or title. It's about _money_!" He ferociously whispered the last word of his tirade into Gisborne' taller stature. "She's a courtier, so she must have loads and loads of it! Think Gisborne. You could be lord of more than just Locksley if you had the kind of wealth that little heiress does! With her father passed, they need a man to support the household. To represent the family name!" Grinning in his wild way, the sheriff twirled his hands before Guy's person. "You could be that man!"

* * *

Ayla was bored. The time was still not right, but she had no report to give Robin either. No reason for her to go exploring into the wild forest. She wandered the sheriff's castle, her temporary home, as she hummed to herself. The smell of dry hay floated through her nose, as she mindlessly trailed her fingers along the rough stone walls.

The tune stuck in her mind was a melody her mother sang to her before bed, many years ago. The song spoke of an angel who came down to earth, only to find death and destruction. Upon the meeting of a young man, she asked him where had all the beauty of god's creation gone. He smiled and took her to visit an old blind woman. He told the angel to ask the same question she had him. The old woman responded that the beauty of the Lord was found in each breath she was able to take, and the small kindness of someone handing her a bowl of soup to eat each day. At this, the Angel cried tears of sorrow and joy, such that it filled a lake.

Absorbed in her mind's rebelling of the tale, Ayla did not see the man in front of her until she literally bumped into him. "Umph!"

She looked up to see the dark locks of Guy of Gisborne's hair fall gently on his strong brow. He shook his head, in what Ayla assumed to be mirth.

"Watch where you are going, Lady. Or whatever air is inside your head will be likely to escape," his dry tone did not even hint at his own joke.

Ayla scoffed, not to be outdone or undermined. "And if you had not had your nose tilted so high, your unbroken gaze would've seen me first, hence avoiding this entire encounter. It is unfortunate for us both that you are so proud. It is almost as if you cannot see reality before you."

Readying herself to turn and flee his presence, Ayla grabbed her skirts.

"Hm," his deep vocalization broke her concentration. "An intelligent enough reply, yet I know no one in Nottingham who is or will be impressed by your haughty demeanor. It is better suited for the Prince's courts, then here." Pausing, he searched her sky-blue pupils. "Why are you and your mother here, Lady?"

Taking a deep breath, Ayla forced herself to remain calm. She cleared her throat and adjusted her stance. "I am here to find a husband."

Tilting his head in curiosity, He breathed a warm breath across her cheek, he was standing so close. "Why Nottingham?"

Closing her eyes in slight shame, she stated, "I've tried other places. No one will have me." She met his gaze with a shy hesitancy. "Will you have me, Sir Guy?"

His deep timbre rolled through Ayla ears and chest like fire spreading. "Why would I want a whiny, spoiled _tart_ like you?"

With a huff, he side stepped her and continued on his way.

Shaking her head from his rejection, she tried to pick up her forgotten humming and found she could not.

* * *

Gisborne sat down at his wooden table at Locksley to write a letter.

 _Dear Marion,_ he started.

Sighing, he tore it off and began again. _My dearest Marion,_

He nodded and continued. _I have finished the preparations at Locklsey for us. Nothing stands in the way of our marriage now._

 _Except Robin Hood_ , Gisborne mentally added. Shaking himself, he returned to the letter.

 _I understand your_ . . .

 _How should he describe it? Fears, hesitancy? Unwillingness?_ Shaking himself again, he forced the thoughts of Robin Hood and Marion being together, in love, out of his mind. _Love. What even was love?_ Gisborne pondered. He knew he cared deeply for Marion. Her beautiful smile and eyes made him feel like a better man. She was a lovely vision and sturdy. She could command a household, he thought.

His rogue mind could not help but compare her to the woman he recently met. The blonde to the brunette. The blissfully ignorant to the practical protector of her family. Yet, something about this simplistic comparison irritated him. Gisborne remembered the sweet and haunting tune the blonde was singing in the deserted hallways. How she challenged him, met him toe to toe. Nearly nose to nose. How she fought with grace and swiftness previously unknown. She was a study in opposites, and what the sheriff said had stuck. Later, she had even directly offered herself to him, and he immediately turned her down without any thought.

There were indeed benefits to marrying a woman like that, including the fact that she was a mystery.

A mystery that Gisborne might be inclined to solve.

* * *

Ayla was done waiting. She had placed herself under the nose of the dirty, money-sniffing sheriff, and now was her time to act.

Her now deceased father had been a good man, she thought as she prepared herself. He descended from a line of blacksmiths, and as such, was very handy with a sword. From a young age, her father taught the young blonde-haired beauty everything he could about every kind of weapon available. She could shoot an arrow, fight hand-to hand combat, and fence if the need arose. In addition to her etiquette training, she was the perfect spy and soldier.

Before King Richard left for the Holy Lands, she was given a very important role by the King himself. Assassin. Prince John gained power through the taxation of his people. Over the past few years, Lady Ayla and her mother traveled to these high grossing places and killed the men who supported Prince John the most. Nottingham was next on her list. And the sheriff was her target.

She dressed in dark colors, gathering her dagger, bow and arrow, and rope together. She crawled out of her window and fit her small hands into the crevices between the large stones. Carefully placing her feet she stepped quietly in the night to the sheriff's open window. The summer months were too scorching to intentionally keep out the cool night air. She hopped into the ledge of the half-circle opening. Crouching down to the floor, she slowly removed her dagger. She took her first tentative step to the shape on the large, four-poster canopy bed. And another. And another, until she was immediately adjacent to it. As she moved at a glacial pace to resume her standing posture, a hand darted out. It grabbed hers, wrapped around her little knife.

Ayla was mentally panicking. The strong, thick hand currently enclosing hers tightened and pulled her onto the soft white sheets. She was now beneath a large body, a broad shouldered body. One who did not look like the sheriff. In fact, it was a pair of dark intense eyes, a sharp nose, and thin lips which faced her.

Guy of Gisborne squinted his lovely eyes as he started to wake up and recognize the person who seemed to have attempted to kill him. Ayla did the two things she could think of. She maneuvered her feet around his, and flipped them over, her putting her knife to his throat. She whispered, "I'm looking for the sheriff."

Guy's beautiful piercing stare widened. "You are here to kill him," he breathed in astonishment.

Ayla nodded; the moonlight from the open window shining on her stoic face.

In another minute movement, Ayla was quickly pushed up against one of the wooden columns of the poster bed. The dagger the only thing between her leather-covered body and his bare chest. She glanced down to see he was wearing black leather breeches. She swallowed her nerves of being in a bed with a half-naked man. This wasn't the first time this had happened. Well, not this specifically, usually she could count her windows correctly, but the general idea holds true.

She panted shallowly, unsure of the loyalties and mindset of the physically stronger, unreadable man in front of her. The way his body pressed against hers sent a surprising heat through her torso, down to her womb.

He had the upper hand, and before she got distracted, she needed to change that. Taking a deep breath, she pushed against him, meeting his lips with hers. A small shocked grunt from the man gave Ayla a secret grin. He became loose and pliant beneath her, and she was able to push him back horizontally on the bed. She removed the dagger from the equation by slipping it back into its sheath in her side. He grunted again, as he took control of the kiss, and flipped them once more. He grabbed both her hands and pushed them above her head. Breaking away, he took large gulps of air. "Why do you want to kill the sheriff?" He breathed, warmth dancing along her exposed neck.

She swallowed down her arousal once more. "It's the order of Prince John," she lied easily, still unsure of where Gisborne's loyalties lied.

"You kill for Prince John?" His astonished voice and squinting eyes were back.

"Sometimes. I'm his spy, and assassin when he wants me to be." To distract his line of questioning, she rolled her hips against his hard body.

Ayla watched his thick Adam's apple bob as he grunted lowly. "Hmm."

Taking a deep breath, she gave him curious look. "What happens now, Sir Guy?" She leaned forward a hair's breath away from his enticing lips. "What must I do, for you to keep my secret?" She pushed her tongue from her mouth to lick across the tight line of his.

He exhaled at that, and Ayla felt him attempt to shift his lower half off of her. "You are a devious mastermind, Lady. And I will refuse to play your games."

Ayla chuckled as Guy struggled to keep his hold on her while moving over to the other end of the bed. "I thought I played my part well enough for the sheriff, don't you agree?"

* * *

Guy looked at this temptress in his bed. It was almost a dream come true. However, he was in shock and awe at the type of woman he discovered underneath her dull exterior. His body was more than aroused, ready for her to stay there all night.

However, he needed to look at the situation calmly. This actor for Prince John intended to kill the sheriff. This spy was willing to share his bed, he assumed by her seduction act, in order to maintain her secret. Just a glance at her supple and smooth chest and flowing locks almost made his decision for him. He cleared his throat to refocus his thoughts.

"I agree, you are the best assassin I've ever met. However, I cannot agree to kill the sheriff," he whispered, breaking the still silent night between them. "On the other hand," he stood from the bed, needing to pace, "I believe I will keep your secret mission, to myself." Glancing at her waiting form, now sitting up on his new sheets, "And in order to ensure my silence, you need not attempt to convince me." Holding his hand out to stop her from anything, he clarified, "in any way."

Something about this new version of the Lady Ayla brought guy to his metaphorical knees. Seeing her smoothly wield her dagger and fight him sent shivers down his body. It seemed as if something was awakened within him at this new sight of her. Her strength and zeal for getting what she wanted enticed his own sense of ruthless loyalty. No longer was she a walking puff of air and lace, no. She was a dancer with a piece of ribbon, making all see what she wanted them to see while she wielded a sword behind her back. She was manipulative, loyal, deadly, and ambitious. She was marvelous.

* * *

Ayla was panicking again. After standing, Guy had turned to her, prevented her further attempts at seducing him, and now was just staring. At her. She nervously looked around her. He was a stone statute, fixed on her presence in his bed. Seeing the potential for his state of shock, she removed herself from his private place of slumber. "Well, Sir Guy, if that is all, then I will say good night. I will not tell you of my next attempt, but I am trusting you to maintain my confidence. Sir Guy?" He looked as if he had been waken from a dream.

Blinking, he nodded. "Yes, yes of course. Good night."

She slipped out the heavy door, and swiftly flew back to her room. After communicating her failure to her mother, she promptly fell asleep. And dreamed. She dreamed of sweet but vigorous kisses and squinting confused eyes.

The next week, she worked on her second plan. The easiest was the sneaking into his room, but once Ayla realized the true distance, it would be too difficult. The second best plan was a poisoning. With her mind completed focused on this plan, she still caught her eyes drifting to a set of pale blue, yet dark and intense eyes. His stare made her feel stripped down and electrified. Her mother would give her daughter a look, each time Ayla caught herself oogling. Ayla couldn't help but be drawn to his strong shoulders, thick arms, and smooth yet calloused hands. She was tingling just thinking about it.

They rarely found each other alone anymore, but rather Sir Guy would make excuses and leave the area. Ayla couldn't help but blush slightly at each interaction. She had never felt this way before. Granted, she rarely approached a man as she had Sir Guy so boldly. The morning after nearly running into his hard chest and him giving her a slight nod of acknowledgement, she admitted to herself something important. She never had a person outside of her mother as a confidant. Only three people in the world knew of her true mission - King Richard, her mother, and herself. Now Guy knew of an altered version of the truth, but the truth nonetheless.

Finally, the day had come, Ayla had her mother give a servant the poison to put into the sheriff's food at supper. As they sat and ate, everyone would witness the sheriff die of natural causes.

The sheriff talked with Gisborne on his right. Ayla focused herself entirely on eating her food, and not looking at Gisborne... again. Ayla's mother was keeping an eye on the sheriff. As the sheriff was about to eat his poisoned soup, he turned to Gisborne. "Gisborne, are you sure you do not want another helping? You finished yours so soon, here," he commented, handing Gisborne the handle of his spoon. Ayla heard her mother cry out, "No!"

The room was shock still. Ayla turned to her mother. She had her hand out as if to knock the spoon from the sheriff's hand. He looked as if he was about to feed Gisborne from his spoon. Ayla's eyes grew wide. Her mother just saved Gisborne's life... At the cost of her own. Ayla turned once more to her mother. "Mother," she whimpered.

The sheriff squinted his eyes in confusion. "No? Why not Lady Black? What is wrong with my soup that Gisborne should not try it?" The room's silence was overwhelming.

Ayla's mother nearly had tears pouring from her eyes. "You do not know if Gisborne is allergic to the ingredients." Ayla closed her eyes in pity. Her mother, her dear mother tried, desperately to make sense of her outburst.

"Hmmm," the sheriff replied. "I think not." He stood, knocking his chair back. "Guards! Arrest this woman!"

Ayla cried out, "No!"

The sherrif ignored Ayla's outburst as he continued, "This woman tried to poison me! Gisborne received the exact same soup, Lady Black, unless you have added something to mine? You gave yourself away, madame!"

Ayla screamed, voice broken with wailing, "No! Please have pity, it was me!"

The sheriff pouted his disgusting lips. "Aww, the sacrificial love of a daughter for her mother. How sweet." He turned to guards now surrounding the Lady Black. "Did your daughter know?" Ayla hysterically shook her head, attempting to prevent her mother from lying.

The older woman gave a sorrowful look into the daughters weeping countenance. "My daughter did not know. She is trying to protect me. I gave the servant the poison."

Ayla cried out again, knowing she was unable to do anything to save her mother from her deadly fate. Guy stood and wrapped his arms around the uncontrollable sobbing young woman. Ayla kept her waterlogged eyes on her mother as the woman was ushered out by the armed guards. "No! Nonono!"

"Hanging tomorrow!" The sheriff's gleeful voice echoed in Ayla's ears for hours afterward.

* * *

He could do this. There was little in reality he could do, but this was something. He knocked on her door.

Ayla's red-rimmed eyes, pulled at something within Gisborne.

"Lady, I've... I've come to allow you a small privilege. To ... Say your goodbyes." He spoke softly, and kept his eyes to the ground.

A slight whimper drew his eyes upwards. She gave him a small smile, whispering, "Thank you, Sir Guy."

* * *

Gisborne intentionally did not attend Lady Black's hanging. When Sir Guy used his favor with the sheriff to allow Lady Ayla to say goodbye to her mother, he was confused. The rules were something he had always upheld, yet the persuasiveness and passion exhibited by the slip of a woman in his chambers had changed him. No longer did he dream of Marion's dark locks on his pillows. Instead, he had the fervent and wild kisses from the blonde to keep him company. He had her flaming blue eyes as she argued with him or fought him. Gisborne nearly shuddered at the love exemplified by the woman's relationship with her mother. A relationship that would forever be broken. The sight of the wrecked daughter reaching intensely through the prison bars tore at his breast, and he did not think he could handle seeing that grief intensified.

He had been headed to the sheriff's castle with the taxes he had collected that day.

An uproar greeted him.

According to the chatty crowd around the drawbridge, Robin Hood had attempted to save the Lady Black from her hanging by breaking her out of the cell under the castle. In all of this, the sheriff had accidentally been accidentally fatally hit by an arrow and was now, dying a slow and painful death in the belly of his cold wealth.

News of this caused Gisborne's feet to fly forward. He raced up the steps of the castle, all the soldiers making way for him to enter.

The sheriff was dying, and he had just enough time to name a successor.

* * *

Ayla could have laughed with the level of happiness she was experiencing. She had hidden away, once more in the woods with the gang of Robin Hood. Her mother was safe and sound, saved by her desperate request for reinforcements. She had accomplished her mission of killing the sheriff, for which Robin would unfortunately be blamed.

However, she had a plan. The hit was placed so that it was accidental looking, but the undetectable poison in the sheriff was not. Because Robin did not use poisoned arrows, no one would suspect it! It was genius. Plus, the public could still adore Robin for fighting for them, and maintaining a sense of morals.

Ayla heard through Robin's spies that Sir Guy had been declared the new sheriff. No surprise there. Ayla smiled.

That last day, she detected a level of kindness and warmth in him that he easily hid. Her heart warmed at the thought. She caught herself giggling as she collected sticks for the group's fire.

The sound of crunching leaves from the opposite direction of camp broke her internal reprieve. The sight of Sir Guy's heavy trudge through the forest floor brought a smile to the young girl's face.

"Sir Guy! I mean, _Sheriff_ Guy, how did you find me?" She winked at him as she stepped towards him. He stopped at the speech and steadily gazed at her face.

"You, vixen. You, vile creature of the devil's underbelly, why are you smiling? The sheriff is dead!"

She laughed lightly, "I know. I completed my mission and now may return to London. And you are the sheriff now. You can do whatever you like." She trailed her delicate fingers up his chest to his neck. He moved not an inch, but Ayla caught a slight twitch of his lips. She repressed her grin, voicing her sudden thought, "What would you like, Sheriff?" He stayed still as a tree in winter.

She whispered against his throat, "Would you like to kiss me?"

Ayla smiled wide when she heard his gulp. "Yes," he breathed against her ear.

"Would you like to hold me?" She wrapped her other arm around his large mass.

"Yes," he breathed again, kissing gently the space under her ear.

She smiled deviously, enjoying the feeling of his warmth surrounding her. The freedom she now had to be in his strong arms, no sheriff behind the next corner, no persons watching, making judgments. She knew what she wanted. Him.

"Would you like to come with me to London and make someone else the handle Nottingham?" She hesitantly whispered, nearly holding her breath. Guy stiffened.

A few breaths passed between them, before he scooped her up in his arms entirely. "Yes, I would like that very much," he said, bringing his lips to hers for a passionate kiss.


End file.
